Dead Head Tales
by soul-dwelling
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-chapter stories centered around primary and secondary characters of Soul Eater. UPDATE 1/5/2014: Whatever happened to those pervy undies that Spirit inadvertently gave to his daughter? (No smut-but some Maka Chops)


"Soul!"

He squinted his eyes shut and curled up against the back of the couch, turning away from his apron-wearing, broom-wielding meister, who had a portable vacuum by her feet. She frowned, getting a full view of his blue boxers. Why the hell couldn't he wear pants indoors?

"Get up and help me clean!" Maka Albarn yelled. "When was the last time you vacuumed your room?"

Soul Eater wedged himself more against the back of the couch. He tugged at the pillow he had taken from his room to cover his face. "I'll get to it later."

She smacked the tip of her broomstick onto the floor of their apartment. "Right, because napping on the couch is soooooo eating up your schedule!"

She could not see Soul smirk, but she could hear it. "Booked solid through this afternoon."

Maka rolled her eyes. "Oh, joy."

He felt the broom handle crash against his leg, while with her now freed hand Maka lifted the mini-vacuum from the floor. As he rubbed his uninjured foot against the one that his wicked meister just battered, he heard her sock-covered footsteps depart the living room as she opened a door.

"Ug, your room's a mess!"

He felt his heart beat a bit faster, but one deep breath later, he calmed it down, and tried to fall back to sleep. It's not like Maka didn't see half of the stuff in his room—she already went through his underwear drawer enough times whenever he was stuck in the infirmary, and she already saw what he wore under his clothes multiple times (including now, he thought, as he scratched his boxer-clad backside).

"Seriously, Soul, there is no excuse for this kind of a mess!"

He calmed himself further by reminding himself that such a mess meant that anything unmentionable would be hidden anyway: old family photos, letters from Wes, certain magazines.

"Wait, hang on."

Fuck.

"What's that?"

Now he wasn't going to get much sleep.

"Soul!"

At least, not in a good way.

"…Yes?"

"Is that…"

What?! He could swear it wasn't his—it was Black Star's! No, maybe Tsubaki's? No, that's dumb. Kid's? Kilik's?

"…girly underwear in your dresser?"

Definitely not Kilik's, he thought, his eyes widening.

He pushed his arms from under him, looking over the couch into the hallway. She was still in his room, out of view.

"No! A-and why are you going through my dresser?!"

He heard her giggle. "You left it open!"

He smacked his forehead. He knew he should have shut it before he came into the living room for his nap.

Her laughter became hysterical. This was going to end either really well, or really badly.

"What, you like trying this stuff on?"

"No! I—I don't know how that got there!"

"Suuuuuure you don't!" Maka stood in the middle of Soul's room, amongst the dirty laundry, books, and paperwork. She struggled to pull herself together, as she twirled her partner's undergarments on one finger.

She tugged at the sides, noticing its elasticity.

"What," she continued, "you think Blair left it here?"

Then she noticed panties' color.

"These are too…small…"

And finally their transparency.

"…for…her…"

Soul ducked behind the couch and whimpered: "…Oh no…"

"SOUL!"

He saw her hand grip the corner of the hallway entrance. Soul thought he could see flames burning inside her emerald eyes.

"IS THIS THE KINKY UNDERWEAR MY PERVY PAPA GAVE ME?!"

This was going to end really badly.

"…No?"

"SOUL!" She stamped into way into the living room, holding the undergarments in front of his nose. "YOU DIDN'T THROW THEM OUT?!"

"What?!" he protested. He pushed against the back of the couch, his bare feet struggling to land on the floor, to find anything solid under his feet. "It's not like anyone else was using them!"

"Soul Eater!" Her growl sounded like the cross between a hippo and a bear. She flung the offending garments onto the newly swept and scrubbed floor. His eyes followed her hand, as she moved it—without having to look—to remove one of the books sitting on their coffee table.

Soul realized he must talk his way out of this one.

"Now, Maka, just hold on a sec!"

Her growling intensified, as she slowly lifted the book over her head.

As he curled up back on the couch, and as he held out his hands away from his body in the hopes of producing some distance between himself and his meister, Soul's mouth moved faster than his brain could: "In my defense, it's not like you…had…worn…them…yet?"

"THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE BETTER?!"

"…Maybe?"

She lowered her book-holding arm dramatically. He lowered his hands away from his head.

No book collided with his head. He thought, maybe it worked? Maybe she pitied him?

He risked opening one eye.

She was baring more teeth than before, as she reached for a second book.

"Maka?"

Her growling recommenced.

He felt sweat pouring off his forehead. Time for the Hail Mary play: "Oh, what's that, Blair?" he shouted over Maka's shoulder into their empty kitche, as he jumped off of the couch onto his feet.

Then he spoke in a falsetto: "I need some help in the kitchen, my little scythey-boy!"

Maka stared blankly. Did he really think she was this stupid?

He inched around the couch and his books-wielding meister, slowly approaching the kitchen. "Well," he continued, resuming his usual voice, "can't keep her waiting, right?"

He sprinted for the apartment's front door.

"GET BACK HERE!"

"No!"

"MAAAAAKA—"

"Not the two-volume set, NOT THE TWO-VOLUME SET—"

"CHOP!"

The crack of 2,000-plus pages against skull echoed throughout the neighborhood.

o-o-o

"Oh, I drool over dresses made of lace, la la la la la."

Blair skipped down the hallway to Soul and Maka's apartment, with bags full of food she had promised to pick up for her little kittens—and to cover the rent she had missed last month. As she sang her song, she did not care that she was forgetting the lyrics as she bounced along.

"I'm strictly a female female," she continued, as she pointed her finger at the door, unlocking it with some magic. As she swept into the living room, she held up her arm like the diva she was—only without the stage she deserved—and finished her lyrics:

"And my future I hope will be, da da da da da-I enjoy being—"

She stopped, upon finding a new decoration hanging from the ceiling to their apartment.

"A girl?" sh said, trailing off.

The new decoration hung from a hook from their ceiling.

Well, that is one way to handle spring cleaning, she thought. As she entered the apartment, she tripped a bit over the rug—no, it was another fabric: a pair of blue boxer shorts.

Blair looked at the decoration for the longest time, before she turned to her house-mate, sitting on their couch.

"Maka?"

Blair turned to the young woman, who was skimming a book in her hands—as she sat between two cracked volumes, each sitting on either couch cushion.

"Why is Soul hanging from the ceiling by his underwear?"

Maka did not look up from her page, her eyes narrowing. "That's not _his_ underwear, Blair."

Blair paced around the barely conscious, rather bare boy hanging by his undies from above. This was one heck of a conversation piece for their apartment, she thought.

"Well of course they are—"

Her eyes widened upon noticing the fabric.

"Wait! Transparent?! Soul, I never knew! How kinky!"

"They're not mine," the boy groaned, barely conscious, likely from the two lumps on the top of his head. "They're Maka's…"

"Ooooo!" Blair squealed, as she hopped up and down and clapped her hands. "Even kinkier!"

Blair then heard Maka slammed her book shut. She looked to see Maka set that book down on top of one of the cracked volumes. Maka then pulled the coffee table closer to her, sat up—and proceeded to slam her head against the table, yearning for the joy of complete unconsciousness.

Blair blinked, then smiled. "So, how was your day, hun?"

Maka still was trying to knock herself out.

"Um, just wait right here: I'll get you a cold compress and some medicine, then."

She started down the hallway, then stopped. "Oh, and something for Soul! Maka, I'm borrowing your camera!"

A reply came in the form of a boy groaning, and his meister still slamming her head against the table.

o-o-o

Remember those underwear that Blair gave to Maka, on the pretense that they were really from Spirit? Well, now you know what happened with those underwear. If you do not remember any of this, I am referring to Chapter 12 in the manga, which was adapted as Episode 14 of the anime. The continuity can go either way—although I side with the manga, since that one did establish that the underwear was transparent, because that detail of course makes or breaks this evident literary masterpiece.

Good lord, what am I doing with my life?

I take no responsibility for this story—when I can blame other people. I blame EerieInnocence42 on Tumblr and iLaruel at and Tumblr. The former had mentioned that there is an Episode 14 GIF involving Soul looking rather, well, uncomfortable upon seeing Maka's underwear—so of course when I couldn't find that GIF, I had to make my own: post/62567432380. That GIF then led to some interesting tags from iLaruel, and then this drabble: post/66484806207.

I promise that a future story will be more SoMa—just wait for SoMa Week.


End file.
